Wading In The Deep End
by Eternal Ecstasies
Summary: Castiel stared right back at Dean with worry and shock. His lower lip quivered slightly as Dean's eyes widened at Castiel's gesture.   "Let me help you." Slash


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally. I don't even own a pair of shoes.

Chapter 1

Razor sharp teeth began to rip at his clothes. They dug deep beneath his jacket burying them in his flesh. His arms reached out for any object to try and shield himself from the beast but nothing was in sight to even grasp. Reaching out just gave the creature an opportunity to tear through more flesh like a chew toy. The screaming was heard throughout the neighborhood as he began to cough up blood. Not only was he losing blood through the multiple gashes in his chest and legs but the blood was spilling out his mouth. The devil hounds were vicious monsters from hell that were only visible to those whose contract had expired and hell was awaiting them. The man saw them clearly, saw those teeth bite through his flesh and tear it like paper, watched as his blood dripped down from the edges of its fangs. The crimson eyed black beasts of death ate away at his mortality as the fangs dug through his earthly tomb to reach their bounty, Dean Winchester's soul.

A run down motel in the middle of a forgotten forest in Kansas was being tormented by a midnight storm of an off-the-scale magnitude. The walls were made of red bricks that had already been losing its color and shape. The frame of the motel vibrated throughout the night as the heavy rain showed no mercy to the earth. Wide windows covered the entirety of the motel as minuscule shards and shrapnel were picked up by the wind and forcefully thrown against the clear glass. The only article that allowed the tenants to be shielded from the scene outside the room was a long sheer white blind across the windows. Passed the curtains was the sight of a mauve sky with spots of darker hues that had an ominous effect to it.

The rain proceeded throughout the night as the sky was brightened by quick blinding flashes. The lightning not only brightened the sky but rays extended from the clouds down to the ground. What followed was no less than terrifying. A crackling explosion arose from the sight in the sky which caused the ground to tremble slightly. The flashes kept their continuous streaks but each time the thunder came in closer intervals until the sound was heard just as quickly as the lightning disappeared.

The storm continued as the motel was thrashed and attacked by broken branches and small rocks that were thrown by the wind. Outside the motel, one car stood in the parking lot. Anything that the wind was able to lift was hurled against the vehicle. The rain poured down onto the car, washing away the dirt from the frame leaving the 1967 Chevy Impala cleaner than it looked in a while.

Small patches from the motel's roof were ripped off by the storm and the trees behind began hitting its branches against the walls. The outer walls were old and rusty so a mere punch seemed to shake the foundation. The Impala was the only car parked in the parking in front of the only occupied room.

Two queen sized beds were positioned on the far right side of the room while a black nightstand separated the beds. A small rectangular table with wooden chairs was placed across from the beds. There was a digital clock on the nightstand showing the time to be 3:30 a.m.

The tossing and turning of a man was being silenced by the turmoil outside. As the man's panting increased and his body trembled, the storm hit its peak and the lightning and thunder came in closer intervals. His eyes moved side to side in his closed eyelids as sweat from his forehead rolled down the side of his head, down his right cheek underneath his earlobe. The next second the lightning flashed in its brightest across the night sky as a bolt of thunder struck a tree which caused it to come crashing down to the ground. The moment that bolt made contact with the tree, the man's eyes opened wide as his upper body swung upwards off the bed, causing the sheets to fall to his thighs. His arms were at his sides, his hands clenching at the sheets as his shoulders quivered as his chest moved rapidly up and down, attempting to catch some air. His mouth was agape as he choked each time he took a breath. He held the sheets harder as he began to calm down his breathing and attempted to relax his tense body.

Looking around the dark room, he quickly put all his attention to the bed beside his own. A man was lying at his side, his back facing him and his breathing even and calm. He let out a sigh of relief as he kept staring at him sleeping a foot away. His gaze traveled towards the wall right across from the other bed staring at the blank wall, hoping to find something there. He slowly lifted his right arm up and placed his hand against his forehead, leaning his elbow against his knee allowing his head to lie on his hand, trying to clear his mind.

"Can't I get some hot chicks instead," His voice was broken and tired as he kept trying to calm his beating heart and his trembling hands. The room was silent for a moment as the rain began to calm and the storm seemed to halt. In that instant as the storm began to dissipate a sudden flash of lightning lite the sky and brightened the room as a loud noise roared across the land.

"Was it that memory again?" A low yet clear voice was heard through the darkness as a man in a beige trench coat walked towards the man sitting on the bed.

"How long have you been there Cas?" He spoke softly to the man standing.

"Not long. You had _that_ dream again didn't you?" Castiel stood in front of his bed, tilting his head slowly to the right.

"Hehe. Cas, you do not want to know what goes on in my head." The man laughed as he looked up at the confused angel, trying to make the situation less tense.

"Dean, you cannot lie to me. I know…"

"Cas, stop. It was just another lust filled night with let's just say, more girls than I can handle." Dean spoke fast with no eye contact between them as he tried to steer the subject to something more kosher. "I'm not gonna lie…it was awesome," he continued with a cocky tone. "Can't expect you to know since, well, you know." Dean's face showed a bit of amusement as he kept on talking. "If you angels had sex more often you might not be such dicks."

"Dean, I do not understand why you are ignoring the truth." Castiel kept his glare at Dean as the man on the other bed began to turn in his sleep.

"The truth? That was the truth. Come on Cas you should know a little about me by now." The smirk showed on his face as Dean began to believe what he was saying.

"Dean, allow me to understand and…"

"So help me Robert Plant if you say help you I will throw your ass out the window." It was silent for a moment as Castiel stared at Dean slightly squinting his eyes.

"Who is Robert Plant?" Castiel looked at Dean with that innocent puppy face as he tilted his head to the right from confusion.

Dean stared at Castiel for a moment in shock and disbelief. "You're joking right? How can you not know who…," Dean was exhausted having to explain so much common knowledge to an _angel_ of God. "Never mind." Dean turned his head and let out a sigh of frustration.

"Dean be serious."

"What does it look like I'm doing, playing dumb?"

"These games you humans take part in are oddly named."

"What the fuck are you talking about Cas?" Dean's anger was building up. He became more and more impatient by Castiel's lack of human knowledge. Dean exhaled noisily. "Just go away Cas. It's too early in the morning to be doing this with you."

"I sensed you needed me so I came."

"I don't need you Cas. I'm fine. Just let me sleep."

"I know you will not sleep anymore tonight Dean. What you keep remembering is haunting your dreams." Castiel looked worried as he attempted to get Dean to talk.

"I will sleep if you leave dammit!"

"Please Dean. Do not do this to yourself." Castiel's voice began to crack slightly. It was calm outside as the branches stopped hitting the outer walls of the motel.

"Cas you have no idea what I'm doing to myself." Dean stared at Castiel with tired and angry eyes.

"I may not know exactly but I see how you look at Sam and how you look at other humans who are suffering. There is so much mixed feelings engulfing your soul that it is hard to live everyday with them isn't it?"

"How can you talk about feelings so bluntly when you don't know how it feels to have them."

"That is why I want you to tell me. Help me understand." Castiel just wanted answers. Why was Dean so reluctant to give him those answers?

"No."

"Dean…"

"I said no!" Dean shouted loudly in rage.

"Please." Castiel took a step closer to Dean's bed. Dean's eyes narrowed in frustration and fatigue by Castiel's constant badgering. Suddenly Sam began to turn in his sleep. Dean turned to look at Sam and his eyes quickly widened knowing he could not continue this discussion with Castiel in the motel room.

"Let's talk somewhere else then." Dean kept staring at Sam as Castiel approached Dean.

Castiel said nothing as he reached the right side of Dean's bed and in an instant both Castiel and Dean were in a forest just outside the motel's vicinity.

"Dean…"

"Listen Cas, there is nothing to say. I had a dream and woke up. It's over. We are done."

"It would be wiser for you to talk about it. God will help you through this." Castiel saw Dean's expression change from angry to shattered after that statement.

"No. There is nothing to talk about. Dammit Cas stop lying to yourself. You think God gives a fuck about anything that goes on in this world. Sometimes us humans don't want help from God, because we _do_ ask and hope your God will help, but he never does. Most of them have given up and you want to know why, because they were under the impression that your God gave a shit about us, but he doesn't." Dean was losing it. He was tired, tired of the apocalypse, tired of fighting demons, tired of facing his past.

"You are wrong Dean. I believe God is out there and cares about you all more than you will ever know." Castiel did not comprehend Dean's actions. He did not understand why Dean would not admit when he needed help.

"Really? Why then does he let innocent children and people die from, what I have experienced, is pure evil? Shouldn't he help, or send you angels to kill those sons of bitches? Where were you when that fucking demon decided to give those children demon blood? Where were you when my mother was killed by that fucking demon Azazel? Where the fuck were you angels?"

"You have to understand…"

"Understand what? God didn't know? Give me a break Cas. You angels were too lazy to get off your clouds and help us poor bastards out." Dean needed this talk. He needed to vent to Castiel and let someone know exactly what was going on in his mind.

"Dean listen-" Castiel could not even get a full sentence out because Dean kept interrupting him. He could not sympathize with Dean. He wanted to, he really did, but he was more perplexed by human emotions now than ever and this discussion was becoming more and more baffling.

"I am done." Dean reached his absolute limit. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were trembling slightly. "Take me back."

"Wait-"

"Now Cas," He said in a stern and loud voice, staring straight into those navy blue eyes. There was something in that look that made Castiel stiffen, unable to say another word. He looked away from Dean and then vanished as Dean found himself back in his motel room, sitting on his bed. He looked over to Sam, watching him sleep for a few minutes before letting out a long sigh of exhaustion.

Dean turned away from Sam and slowly lowered himself back onto the bed.

He breathed in and out slowly as he stared at the ceiling. Looking up, his eyelids slowly became heavy from the stress, the anger, the fear and soon they shut completely. The first image he saw was Castiel and that caused his eyelids to quickly open as his heart thumped hard against his chest.

He stared up at the ceiling trying to understand why his mind was playing tricks on him. Thoughts began racing through his mind as his heart rate drastically increased and his breathing became more intense.

Soon images from his past began appearing, the hell hounds, and his flesh being torn into pieces, the forty years he spent in hell. He heard the screaming, he felt the pain, and he saw the torture. Dean could not keep himself together. This memory was swallowing his sanity and he knew he was going to break. His breathing was now in rapid intervals as his chest became heavy and air escaped his mouth quicker than it entered.

Dean gripped his chest and his body was sent into full panic mode. His mouth searched for some air but nothing was entering his lungs. Dean's chest was caving in on him. The room became a blur but before he passed out two strong hands clutched his arms and a voice began to speak softly.

The hands gripped at him harder as he began to catch some air into his lungs, causing him to gasp loudly. Dean began to regain consciousness as he stared at the being above him, still firmly holding his arms.

Castiel stared right back at Dean with worry and shock. His lower lip quivered slightly as Dean's eyes widened at Castiel's gesture.

"Let me help you."


End file.
